


This is how the world ends.

by witchspellbook



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Multi, Other, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchspellbook/pseuds/witchspellbook
Summary: This is how the world ends.This is how Aziraphale lays waste of everything.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	This is how the world ends.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [El mundo acaba así](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750502) by [witchspellbook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchspellbook/pseuds/witchspellbook)



> I just want to clarify that i dont read angs without a happy ending but i do end up writing it from tile to time. I also do no read, under any circumstance fics with mayor character death, i tend to live in the denial land of everyone lives, but ive had this idea for a while and it finally made it into the page.
> 
> I apologise in advance but the tags are in place and you have been warned
> 
> Enjoy

This is how the world ends.

The kid is mad with grief and the ground has opened up and the sky has opened up and the dog is gone, sprayed like a bad puppy by a spritzer full of holy water clasped by Gabriel’s hand.

  
The witch has taken the rest to hide, she can see _them_ , she knows the dangers, the risks. The young witchfinder is bleeding on the grown, his soul too afraid to leave his body. His body too afraid of pain.

This is how the world ends.

  
Aziraphale has retrieved his sword. War has no need of it, War has a gun now, a submachine gun. War shoots bullets dipped into contaminated blood, HIV and malaria. Death has gone away, his job just started.

  
Famine waits for his turn.

  
This is how the world ends.

  
Heavenly hosts tearing up the skies open, raining down silver arrows dipped in holy water.

Infernal hosts breaking the surface of the Earth, lifting walls of hellfire, yielding it like whips, like brass knuckles.

  
And Aziraphale in the middle of all.

  
He is shouting. The kid had disposed of Gabriel like an annoying bug, like an ant under a magnifying glass, cruel and detached. His dog is gone, the man with the purple eyes killed him, the man with the purple eyes must be no more. And Aziraphale shouts because Crowley is out of sight.

  
“Traitor” a million of voices had buzzed next to his ear before the swarm had taken Crowley from his side. And Aziraphale felt fear.

Aziraphale walks the battlefield. He shouts. He defends himself. There is no demon that can plant face to him and his sword. There is no angel that comes out unharmed from crossing his path. And his cream coloured coat is now splattered with blood. Golden, blue, black and red, some of it even green. And Aziraphale search, his eyes opening up and opening up and opening up. He still cannot see him.

He can feel him still. Still there, still somewhere. He is not gone.

This is how the world ends.

Crowley stumbles in front of him suddenly, his hair is long, and his eyes blown molten gold, and his skin peppered by black scales, his wings opening and closing, not knowing to make himself smaller or huff and puff and grow to scare the rest. He is having trouble with his shape, his corporation changing and changing and Aziraphale dives down for him.

Crowley is scared, blind by fear and hisses at him when he gets closer, Crowley shows him his fine poisonous fangs and his hair spreads out around him as a cobra ready to strike and Crowley shouts for him, terrified.

“It’s me, it’s me, Crowley, I’m here” Crowley focus and falls on his knees over him, sob after sob, and Aziraphale follows him down to his knees, drops his sword to hold him tight.

“Please, please, please” he sobs. Aziraphale doesn’t knows what he wants. Aziraphale wants to take him away, somewhere safe, somewhere warm “It has to be you. It must be you” Aziraphale doesn’t understand.

This is how Aziraphale’s word ends.

In the ground of Tadfield’s air base Crowley takes his sword from the floor and presses it to his hands.

  
“Please” _No_. Aziraphale tries to drop it. His knees are hurting his eyes are watching and their joined wings have given them a cocoon of privacy from the battle, from the horror. “They’ll kill me! They’ll enjoy it, please” _No_ “There’s no one else angel, no one else”.

“No, nonono” Aziraphale shakes his head, Aziraphale shakes all over. He unhands the sword, hot and ablaze besides them and Crowley holds it up for him again.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I trust you, it wont hurt”

“No”

“Aziraphale, I’m scared, please” Crowley hands held his, Aziraphale hands held the sword “I’m a coward I’m weak I won’t survive this”

“Crowley” Aziraphale begs. He prays for time, he prays for a solution, he prats for peace. He prays to Crowley.

“Let it be by your hand” temptation lacing his words, temptation bleeding from his golden eyes. Crowley leans in and kisses him. Human and sweet and when Aziraphale opens his eyes Crowley is no more.

Crowley hands held his and his held the sword. The sword that now shows its end between Crowley’s wings, but Crowley is no more.

This is how the world ends.

With the wail of a broken angel, and the death of a good demon. Humanity’s constant, humanity’s guardians. Broken and dead.

The shape of Crowley falls apart between his hands like stardust not bound by gravity anymore and the sword is aflame in his hand, and his eyes weep molten gold and the taste of Crowley’s poison lingers in his mouth.

This is how the world ends.

This is how Aziraphale lays waste of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading~ and im sorry.


End file.
